


There Is No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

by jojothecr



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, written in 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojothecr/pseuds/jojothecr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>During the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SXpKC1nyNE">Nerd HQ Panel</a> at Comic-Con, Jared talked about his feelings of 'letting people down, not being good enough...' You think Jensen can let that just go?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yes, I know I said that I'm done with writing J2/SPN, and I am. This is just something I wrote right after CC and then went back to it just to get rid of it, really. Just one finished story in the hundred that'll never see their ending. As always, my apologies for remaining mistakes.  
> A/N 2: It's crazy to think that someone as amazing as Jared, someone that you just look at and instantly feel better can feel this way, and hearing him say that honestly, physically hurt. Jensen's horrified look at the end of Jared's speech was pretty much mine.
> 
> Title by Hozier

There’s a shadow on Jared’s balcony; a tall, dark specter standing on the backdrop of the late California night. It’s quiet, unmoving, just breathing; perhaps slightly faster, heavier than it should.   
Jared steps up to it, to _him_ ; their shoulders almost touching, arms brushing when he leans to the side a fraction, trying to see into his face. It’s too dark there, though, Jensen’s features hidden in shadows, not by an accident, evidently on purpose. Jared wonders what Jensen’s got to hide.

“Is everything okay?”

Jensen doesn’t answer, he doesn’t move, only his jaw tightens; white teeth sliding painfully against each other.

Jared reaches out and touches Jensen’s elbow, feels the tension in his whole body; muscles stretched beneath warm, tanned skin. “Hey, are you alright?”

Jensen looks up at him then, finally, the city lights catching in his eyes; a glint of yellow and red lights, scattered glitter. “Is it true?” he asks, and his voice sounds so incredibly fragile, broken, already. It doesn’t really fit the threat in his posture, the flashes of danger in his eyes “Is that how you really feel? Like… a disappointment?” He says it like the word alone is something nasty, something dirty he doesn’t even want to feel on his tongue, let alone hear himself say out loud.

“Oh.” Jared pulls back, can’t help it. It’s an automatic reaction, a self-defense mechanism. “That.” He walks over to the edge of the balcony and looks down at the street, lit and empty. There’s a car at the end of the road, a cab, and a scrum of pigeons jumping along the curb. He wants to keep on looking, pretend that Jensen’s not even there, that he never asked, just to avoid this kind of conversation. He’s not prepared for that.

He was truly hoping, naively so, obviously, that his words had been forgotten along the way to the hotel, during the dinner. That his confession, which was honest, yes, but still rather unexpected, got lost somewhere in the jumble of other words, of all the jokes and shenanigans that came after. Like he’s forgotten, temporarily, that this is Jensen. Caring and loyal, and with the memory of an elephant. Nothing goes past him. He _doesn’t_ forget. 

“Yes, _that_ ,” Jensen echoes. “You didn’t think that I’d just drop that? Forget? Did you?” His tone is accusing. Hurt. 

“Well, actually.” Jared turns back to Jensen; beautiful, patient, careworn Jensen, and shrugs. “I _was_ kinda hoping you would.” _Because I_ don’t _have the right answers. I don’t know how to explain._

Jensen moves, takes a step forward, like he wants to reach for him, but stops, pulls back, his fingers sliding through air, empty. He stays just close enough to allow the light from the nearby street lamps to fall into his face. Let it show the worries written in the wrinkles in his face, the fear in his eyes. “I can’t.” He sounds regretful, apologizing. Sorry for digging, again, into what Jared’s already revealed to the whole audience, to the whole fandom, no doubt. Internet’s a bitch. “ _Jare_.”

“Look, I… I really think it came out all wrong. Like…” Jared trails of, not really knowing how to explain or what he’s actually trying to say. It wasn’t _all_ wrong, it wasn’t a lie. It just _is_. And it’s been there for so long, it’s like this whole entity on itself without a name, just a feeling, a whole cargo of emotions. The feeling of not doing enough, of not _being_ good enough. Of doing quick decisions he later comes to regret. Too late. “I can’t explain. I just… I don’t have the words, I’m sorry.”

“Try?”

Jared sighs and leans against the hard barrier of the balcony. The wall is still warm under his hands. “I just feel like… I-I don’t know. Like I’m… letting down people that I love the most. That I make mistakes that other people pay for. And that no matter how much I try, I can never make it up to them. It’ll never be enough… That I only end up disappointing them again.”

Sandy. She left, because she felt lonely. Alone in that relationship. Jared was never there, not often enough. Not _really_ there. Jared doesn’t blame her, he can’t, but it hurt anyway. He’s just not quite sure what exactly was so painful. The break up? Or the thing she saw before he did?

Jensen. No, Jared really doesn’t understand why _he’_ s still here.

Genevieve. He loves her, he does. But he’s cheating on her anyway. And it’s worse, because it’s not physical, it’s the simple knowing that he loves someone else more than his own wife. Than the miracle that had happened to him. His boys. His whole life that finally seems to go right. Seems to. But every time he looks at her, he’s pretty sure she knows that, too.

Jensen’s voice quivers when he speaks up; anger, pity. “That’s a nonsense.”

“Is it? Really? I mean, _you_ are telling me that? _You_ , of all people?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I let you down. The one I really shouldn’t have.”

Jensen’s always been there. When he and Sandy broke up, through the first outbursts of depression, all the time. Sad, worried, insistent. Persuasive. Forcing Jared to eat, sleep, move. Breathe. Never giving up on him. He was supportive with the whole _Always Keep Fighting_ campaign, warning Jared that once he opens the Pandora’s box, he would never be able to close it again, not without letting a few of his ghosts wandering loose. He was right, of course. For the millionth time, Jensen was right.

“When?”

“I let you go.” 

Three years, then la fin. Jensen wanted more, something solid, something real. He never said it, he never _would have_ , but his eyes spoke – hope, disappointment, hurt. 

Jared doesn’t remember why he ended it, he cannot remember. He can’t even imagine why he would do that. Because Jensen, here and now, is everything he could want. His mind, his heart, his body. He would stop the rotation of the world if he could, just to have him back. If only for a while. Worn sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, cold feet in his lap, and a smile just across the sofa. Perspiration-blurred freckles and the tiny, desperate gasps he’d make when Jared would fill him up, clutching at his hips, his hands, because closer was never close _enough_. Puffed, bitten lips and eyes clenched tight, head thrown back, baring the delicate line of his throat. So lost in them. So sinfully gorgeous.

Jensen chuckles, but it’s strained, painful. He pauses, realizing that Jared is actually serious. “But… that was years ago. That’s like…” He stops, lost for words. Sighing, he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and drops down heavily onto the first step leading to the balcony. He looks up at Jared, “Really?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe it, like he _cannot_ believe it, because it rises too many questions, draws out of closets all the skeletons that were supposed to be turned into ash already.

Jared sits down beside him. “I’m thinking, maybe… Maybe things would have been different.” He steals a short, sideway glance at Jensen whose eyes never leave his. He barely blinks. Jared cannot really stand it; Jensen’s gaze is too open, too questioning.

“Yes,” Jensen agrees quietly. “They would have been. They would have been sad. Empty. Skyscrapers of lies. And your boys? They wouldn’t even exist. That… Yeah, let’s not even go there.”

Jared reaches out for him, unexpectedly, his hand landing heavily on Jensen’s knee. Jensen startles. Jared does, too. But he doesn’t pull his hand away. “Yes, but… Maybe I’d still have you.”

Jensen opens his mouth, but noting comes out, not even a sound.

“Yeah,” Jared chuckles.

“I-I’m.” Jensen stops again, closes his eyes; face scrunched up like a crumpled paper, rejected lines. “I didn’t know, I thought--” _That we were fine_.

“Me too. And it did work. For a while, but… I just. I miss you.” His fingers move higher, up Jensen’s firm thigh, worn denim beneath his touch. Jensen shivers, stares up at Jared; surprised, shocked. Jared stares back, unable to look away. Jensen’s eyes have that tendency, to catch and hold, _captivate_. Jensen licks his lower lip, unconsciously; old habit, a tic. It’s completely innocent. Only it’s not, not really.

Jared leans in then, and presses his mouth to the corner of Jensen’s. It’s just a peck, almost accidental. But it doesn’t stop there, he doesn’t. He can’t. He brushes the tip of his nose alongside Jensen’s, closes his eyes, just breathing him in, his warmth, his cologne, the cigarette smoke he’s collected somewhere around. Jensen’s pulling away, trying to, anyway, or he _wants to_ try, but he doesn’t, not quite. 

“ _Please_.” Jared whispers, voice thick with want, weak with it, too. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. Knows he has no right to ask for anything, not this man. His hand seems to demand it anyway, though, moving up and forward, over the fly of Jensen’s jeans, across the line of buttons there. Jensen jerks at that, a choked moan pushing its way through his lips. Jared kisses him; Jensen’s soft mouth giving in beneath his touch, Jensen giving into the kiss, returning it. But there’s not much in it, it’s gentle, soft. Comforting. _Pitying_. And it’s not what Jared wants. Maybe it’s what he _needs_ , but not what he wants. But Jensen gets it, he _always gets_ it. When Jared’s about to pull away, stopping what is to be a terrible mistake, he digs his fingers into Jared’s shoulder and draws him back in, kissing him just like Jared remembers; all heat and passion, tongue and teeth, and a promise he’s not supposed to carry out. Jared pushes him down without subtlety and crawls over him, rocking into him, seeking friction. Jensen’s panting, hard, his hips shifting, moving into Jared’s, with him. Giving. Taking. 

Jared stops when he’s sure that he can’t. He takes a deep, shuddery breath, drawing in Jensen, drowning in him, and pulls away, Jensen’s body a line of heat next to him. 

“Is there something I can do?” Jensen asks, voice low, unsteady, his eyes moving from the ceiling down to Jared. “Besides telling you, repeatedly, every day, that you have no reason to feel like this? That you’re amazing and wonderful. And that people love you? For being exactly who you are? Caring and loving and so generous? And that those who don’t like you don’t matter because… well, the world is full of idiots? They don’t know what they’re missing. You don’t let people down, Jare, not me, not Gen, not the fans. Not anyone. It’s only your wrong, completely twisted assumption. Believe me.” 

Jared smiles, forces his lips into something that should remain a smile, however crooked and bitter, swallows around the painful lump in his throat. No tears, just this edgy, choking feeling. “Thank you.”

“It’s true, Jare. It’s true. You need to see that.”

Jared turns onto his side, props himself up onto his elbow, and strokes Jensen’s hand, placed just there in between them, traces his fingers from Jensen’s palm up. He leans down and kisses Jensen’s wrist, feels his heartbeat in the protruding veins; skittish, still quicker than usual. Moves his mouth up the inner side of Jensen’s forearm, over the soft, ticklish skin of his elbow. 

Jensen’s watching him with soft eyes, caring and worried, so gentle. His fingers are in Jared’s hair, not stroking or pulling, just sort of there.

Jared pauses to gaze at him, for a moment, asking without being really aware.

Jensen nods, barely. The permission is in his eyes, though, in the slow blink and the flutter of his eyelashes, in the smallest tilt of his head.

Jared shifts closer, enough to reach Jensen’s mouth, so warm and already slightly parted. 

When he presses his hand to Jensen’s side, just above the bump of his hip, fingertips gliding beneath his Henley, a soft sigh at the tip of Jensen’s tongue, he’s fairly sure that Jensen doesn’t really know what he’s getting himself into. But when Jensen’s thighs fall open, right knee bent and the fabric of his jeans stretched tight across his crotch, hiding nothing, showing more, he thinks… maybe he does.

“I’m here,” Jensen says; the words like a path to damnation luring Jared in.


End file.
